Chapter eight - Eva

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🎶 Hey, it's all me, in my head 🎶
I'm the one who burned us down
But it's not what I meant
🎶 Sorry that I hurt you 🎶
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I walk through the foul-smelling hallway, my body thrumming with adrenaline and my blood boiling with the need to inflict damage on people. Anyone would do.

The noise and the cheers of the audience only making me more annoyed. There is nothing I hate more than unnecessarily loud sounds.

Sebastian has a soft voice. Always whispers as if he doesn't actually want people to hear him. Except when I get him all riled up, then he's moaning and begging like his life depends on it.

I shake off thoughts about him and try to concentrate on my upcoming match.

I'm wearing my usual boxing attire that consists of a black sports bra - showing off my toned stomach - along with the black shorts clinging to my hips and ass that stops mid-thigh.

The large hall erupts into shouts and more cheers when I step through the door, but I tune them out as I make my way over to Iz, who is smoking. I know she only smokes when she is stressed and she has always hated my insistent need for these illegal underground fights. She says and I quote, it is barbaric and filled with way too much humans with the Y chromosome.

I agree but it is also the only way to ensure I don't go on a rampage and kill half the city every time I want to let off some steam. And this time, I have a feeling I would rip apart more than half the city.

"Hey, you ready?" Iz asks, stubbing out her current cig. Even though she hates these fights, she still comes every time to support me.

"Yep." I jump between the ropes and right on the stage.

She leans on the ropes and narrows her eyes on me as I start to warm up. "This was very sudden. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you were with your pretty boy. Weren't you supposed to have thanksgiving with his family?"

I falter for a second when his purple eyes brimming with tears and hurt flash before my eyes, but then shake it off. Or try to, at least, because my movements are wooden and stiff now.

"It ended early."

"What happened?" She's too observant for my liking.

"I said, nothing!" I snap at her and snatch the gloves away from her outstretched hands, signaling the judge to start the game at the same time.

A 6 foot and 5 inches beast of a man jumps onto the stage - making it vibrate beneath my feet - and whips off his shirt, showing off his huge muscled body littered with tattoos.

He saunters around the ring, raising his hands and basking in the audiences' attention as if he had already won the match while I stand stoically, impatiently waiting for the referee to signal the start of the match so I can pound his arrogant ass into the ground.

I think back to his face, the lone tear sliding down his cheek. His hands shaking. His lips trembling. The utter disappointment in his eyes that made me want to go back in time and shoot myself in the tits to prevent myself from saying those inaccurate words.

That's all it takes and my anger is like an animal coming to life beneath my skin. I clench my fists, trying to hold back the animal in me and willing the referee to fucking start already.

"LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!" The referee yells into the mic in his hand.

I pounce.

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